Aut. Oh helpe me, helpe mee: plucke but off these
ragges: and then, death, death
Clo. Alacke poore soule, thou hast need of more rags
to lay on thee, rather then haue these off
Aut. Oh sir, the loathsomnesse of them offend mee,
more then the stripes I haue receiued, which are mightie
ones and millions
Clo. Alas poore man, a million of beating may come
to a great matter
Aut. I am rob'd sir, and beaten: my money, and apparrell
tane from me, and these detestable things put vpon
me
Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man?
Aut. A footman (sweet sir) a footman
Clo. Indeed, he should be a footman, by the garments
he has left with thee: If this bee a horsemans Coate, it
hath seene very hot seruice. Lend me thy hand, Ile helpe
thee. Come, lend me thy hand
Aut. Oh good sir, tenderly, oh
Clo. Alas poore soule
Aut. Oh good sir, softly, good sir: I feare (sir) my
shoulder-blade is out
Clo. How now? Canst stand?
Aut. Softly, deere sir: good sir, softly: you ha done
me a charitable office
Clo. Doest lacke any mony? I haue a little mony for
thee
Aut. No, good sweet sir: no, I beseech you sir: I haue
a Kinsman not past three quarters of a mile hence, vnto
whome I was going: I shall there haue money, or anie
thing I want: Offer me no money I pray you, that killes
my heart
Clow. What manner of Fellow was hee that robb'd
you?
Aut. A fellow (sir) that I haue knowne to goe about
with Troll-my-dames: I knew him once a seruant of the
Prince: I cannot tell good sir, for which of his Vertues
it was, but hee was certainely Whipt out of the
Court
Clo. His vices you would say: there's no vertue whipt
out of the Court: they cherish it to make it stay there;
and yet it will no more but abide
Aut. Vices I would say (Sir.) I know this man well,
he hath bene since an Ape-bearer, then a Processe-seruer
(a Bayliffe) then hee compast a Motion of the Prodigall
sonne, and married a Tinkers wife, within a Mile where
my Land and Liuing lyes; and (hauing flowne ouer many
knauish professions) he setled onely in Rogue: some
call him Autolicus
Clo. Out vpon him: Prig, for my life Prig: he haunts
Wakes, Faires, and Beare-baitings
Aut. Very true sir: he sir hee: that's the Rogue that
put me into this apparrell
Clo. Not a more cowardly Rogue in all Bohemia; If
you had but look'd bigge, and spit at him, hee'ld haue
runne
Aut. I must confesse to you (sir) I am no fighter: I am
false of heart that way, & that he knew I warrant him
Clo. How do you now?
Aut. Sweet sir, much better then I was: I can stand,
and walke: I will euen take my leaue of you, & pace softly
towards my Kinsmans
Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way?
Aut. No, good fac'd sir, no sweet sir
Clo. Then fartheewell, I must go buy Spices for our
sheepe-shearing.
Enter.
Aut. Prosper you sweet sir. Your purse is not hot enough
to purchase your Spice: Ile be with you at your
sheepe-shearing too: If I make not this Cheat bring out
another, and the sheerers proue sheepe, let me be vnrold,
and my name put in the booke of Vertue.
Song. Iog-on, Iog-on, the foot-path way,
And merrily hent the Stile-a:
A merry heart goes all the day,
Your sad tyres in a Mile-a.
Enter.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Florizell, Perdita, Shepherd, Clowne, Polixenes, Camillo,
Mopsa,
Dorcas, Seruants, Autolicus.
Flo. These your vnvsuall weeds, to each part of you
Do's giue a life: no Shepherdesse, but Flora
Peering in Aprils front. This your sheepe-shearing,
Is as a meeting of the petty Gods,
And you the Queene on't
Perd. Sir: my gracious Lord,
To chide at your extreames, it not becomes me:
(Oh pardon, that I name them:) your high selfe
The gracious marke o'th' Land, you haue obscur'd
With a Swaines wearing: and me (poore lowly Maide)
Most Goddesse-like prank'd vp: But that our Feasts
In euery Messe, haue folly; and the Feeders
Digest with a Custome, I should blush
To see you so attyr'd: sworne I thinke,
To shew my selfe a glasse
Flo. I blesse the time
When my good Falcon, made her flight a-crosse
Thy Fathers ground
Perd. Now Ioue affoord you cause:
To me the difference forges dread (your Greatnesse
Hath not beene vs'd to feare:) euen now I tremble
To thinke your Father, by some accident
Should passe this way, as you did: Oh the Fates,
How would he looke, to see his worke, so noble,
Vildely bound vp? What would he say? Or how
Should I (in these my borrowed Flaunts) behold
The sternnesse of his presence?
Flo. Apprehend
Nothing but iollity: the Goddes themselues
(Humbling their Deities to loue) haue taken
The shapes of Beasts vpon them. Iupiter,
Became a Bull, and bellow'd: the greene Neptune
A Ram, and bleated: and the Fire-roab'd-God
Golden Apollo, a poore humble Swaine,
As I seeme now. Their transformations,
Were neuer for a peece of beauty, rarer,
Nor in a way so chaste: since my desires
Run not before mine honor: nor my Lusts
Burne hotter then my Faith
Perd. O but Sir,
Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis
Oppos'd (as it must be) by th' powre of the King:
One of these two must be necessities,
Which then will speake, that you must change this purpose,
Or I my life
Flo. Thou deer'st Perdita,
With these forc'd thoughts, I prethee darken not
The Mirth o'th' Feast: Or Ile be thine (my Faire)
Or not my Fathers. For I cannot be
Mine owne, nor any thing to any, if
I be not thine. To this I am most constant,
Though destiny say no. Be merry (Gentle)
Strangle such thoughts as these, with any thing
That you behold the while. Your guests are comming:
Lift vp your countenance, as it were the day
Of celebration of that nuptiall, which
We two haue sworne shall come
Perd. O Lady Fortune,
Stand you auspicious
Flo. See, your Guests approach,
Addresse your selfe to entertaine them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth
Shep. Fy (daughter) when my old wife liu'd: vpon
This day, she was both Pantler, Butler, Cooke,
Both Dame and Seruant: Welcom'd all: seru'd all,
Would sing her song, and dance her turne: now heere
At vpper end o'th Table; now, i'th middle:
On his shoulder, and his: her face o' fire
With labour, and the thing she tooke to quench it
She would to each one sip. You are retyred,
As if you were a feasted one: and not
The Hostesse of the meeting: Pray you bid
These vnknowne friends to's welcome, for it is
A way to make vs better Friends, more knowne.
Come, quench your blushes, and present your selfe
That which you are, Mistris o'th' Feast. Come on,
And bid vs welcome to your sheepe-shearing,
As your good flocke shall prosper
Perd. Sir, welcome:
It is my Fathers will, I should take on mee
The Hostesseship o'th' day: you're welcome sir.
Giue me those Flowres there (Dorcas.) Reuerend Sirs,
For you, there's Rosemary, and Rue, these keepe
Seeming, and sauour all the Winter long:
Grace, and Remembrance be to you both,
And welcome to our Shearing
Pol. Shepherdesse,
(A faire one are you:) well you fit our ages
With flowres of Winter
Perd. Sir, the yeare growing ancient,
Not yet on summers death, nor on the birth
Of trembling winter, the fayrest flowres o'th season
Are our Carnations, and streak'd Gilly-vors,
(Which some call Natures bastards) of that kind
Our rusticke Gardens barren, and I care not
To get slips of them
Pol. Wherefore (gentle Maiden)
Do you neglect them
Perd. For I haue heard it said,
There is an Art, which in their pidenesse shares
With great creating-Nature
Pol. Say there be:
Yet Nature is made better by no meane,
But Nature makes that Meane: so ouer that Art,
(Which you say addes to Nature) is an Art
That Nature makes: you see (sweet Maid) we marry
A gentler Sien, to the wildest Stocke,
And make conceyue a barke of baser kinde
By bud of Nobler race. This is an Art
Which do's mend Nature: change it rather, but
The Art it selfe, is Nature
Perd. So it is
Pol. Then make you Garden rich in Gilly' vors,
And do not call them bastards
Perd. Ile not put
The Dible in earth, to set one slip of them:
No more then were I painted, I would wish
This youth should say 'twer well: and onely therefore
Desire to breed by me. Here's flowres for you:
Hot Lauender, Mints, Sauory, Mariorum,
The Mary-gold, that goes to bed with' Sun,
And with him rises, weeping: These are flowres
Of middle summer, and I thinke they are giuen
To men of middle age. Y'are very welcome
Cam. I should leaue grasing, were I of your flocke,
And onely liue by gazing
Perd. Out alas:
You'ld be so leane, that blasts of Ianuary
Would blow you through and through. Now (my fairst Friend,
I would I had some Flowres o'th Spring, that might
Become your time of day: and yours, and yours,
That weare vpon your Virgin-branches yet
Your Maiden-heads growing: O Proserpina,
For the Flowres now, that (frighted) thou let'st fall
From Dysses Waggon: Daffadils,
That come before the Swallow dares, and take
The windes of March with beauty: Violets (dim,
But sweeter then the lids of Iuno's eyes,
Or Cytherea's breath) pale Prime-roses,
That dye vnmarried, ere they can behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength (a Maladie
Most incident to Maids:) bold Oxlips, and
The Crowne Imperiall: Lillies of all kinds,
(The Flowre-de-Luce being one.) O, these I lacke,
To make you Garlands of) and my sweet friend,
To strew him o're, and ore
Flo. What? like a Coarse?
Perd. No, like a banke, for Loue to lye, and play on:
Not like a Coarse: or if: not to be buried,
But quicke, and in mine armes. Come, take your flours,
Me thinkes I play as I haue seene them do
In Whitson-Pastorals: Sure this Robe of mine
Do's change my disposition:
Flo. What you do,
Still betters what is done. When you speake (Sweet)
I'ld haue you do it euer: When you sing,
I'ld haue you buy, and sell so: so giue Almes,
Pray so: and for the ord'ring your Affayres,
To sing them too. When you do dance, I wish you
A waue o'th Sea, that you might euer do
Nothing but that: moue still, still so:
And owne no other Function. Each your doing,
(So singular, in each particular)
Crownes what you are doing, in the present deeds,
That all your Actes, are Queenes
Perd. O Doricles,
Your praises are too large: but that your youth
And the true blood which peepes fairely through't,
Do plainly giue you out an vnstain'd Shepherd
With wisedome, I might feare (my Doricles)
You woo'd me the false way
Flo. I thinke you haue
As little skill to feare, as I haue purpose
To put you to't. But come, our dance I pray,
Your hand (my Perdita:) so Turtles paire
That neuer meane to part
Perd. Ile sweare for 'em
Pol. This is the prettiest Low-borne Lasse, that euer
Ran on the greene-sord: Nothing she do's, or seemes
But smackes of something greater then her selfe,
Too Noble for this place
Cam. He tels her something
That makes her blood looke on't: Good sooth she is
The Queene of Curds and Creame
Clo. Come on: strike vp
Dorcas. Mopsa must be your Mistris: marry Garlick
to mend her kissing with
Mop. Now in good time
Clo. Not a word, a word, we stand vpon our manners,
Come, strike vp.
Heere a Daunce of Shepheards and Shephearddesses.
Pol. Pray good Shepheard, what faire Swaine is this,
Which dances with your daughter?
Shep. They call him Doricles, and boasts himselfe
To haue a worthy Feeding; but I haue it
Vpon his owne report, and I beleeue it:
He lookes like sooth: he sayes he loues my daughter,
I thinke so too; for neuer gaz'd the Moone
Vpon the water, as hee'l stand and reade
As 'twere my daughters eyes: and to be plaine,
I thinke there is not halfe a kisse to choose
Who loues another best
Pol. She dances featly
Shep. So she do's any thing, though I report it
That should be silent: If yong Doricles
Do light vpon her, she shall bring him that
Which he not dreames of.
Enter Seruant.
Ser. O Master: if you did but heare the Pedler at the
doore, you would neuer dance againe after a Tabor and
Pipe: no, the Bag-pipe could not moue you: hee singes
seuerall Tunes, faster then you'l tell money: hee vtters
them as he had eaten ballads, and all mens eares grew to
his Tunes
Clo. He could neuer come better: hee shall come in:
I loue a ballad but euen too well, if it be dolefull matter
merrily set downe: or a very pleasant thing indeede, and
sung lamentably
Ser. He hath songs for man, or woman, of all sizes:
No Milliner can so fit his customers with Gloues: he has
the prettiest Loue-songs for Maids, so without bawdrie
(which is strange,) with such delicate burthens of Dildo's
and Fadings: Iump-her, and thump-her; and where
some stretch-mouth'd Rascall, would (as it were) meane
mischeefe, and breake a fowle gap into the Matter, hee
makes the maid to answere, Whoop, doe me no harme good
man: put's him off, slights him, with Whoop, doe mee no
harme good man
Pol. This is a braue fellow
Clo. Beleeue mee, thou talkest of an admirable conceited
fellow, has he any vnbraided Wares?
Ser. Hee hath Ribbons of all the colours i'th Rainebow;
Points, more then all the Lawyers in Bohemia, can
learnedly handle, though they come to him by th' grosse:
Inckles, Caddysses, Cambrickes, Lawnes: why he sings
em ouer, as they were Gods, or Goddesses: you would
thinke a Smocke were a shee-Angell, he so chauntes to
the sleeue-hand, and the worke about the square on't
Clo. Pre'thee bring him in, and let him approach singing
Perd. Forewarne him, that he vse no scurrilous words
in's tunes
Clow. You haue of these Pedlers, that haue more in
them, then youl'd thinke (Sister.)
Perd. I, good brother, or go about to thinke.
Enter Autolicus singing.
Lawne as white as driuen Snow,
Cypresse blacke as ere was Crow,
Gloues as sweete as Damaske Roses,
Maskes for faces, and for noses:
Bugle-bracelet, Necke-lace Amber,
Perfume for a Ladies Chamber:
Golden Quoifes, and Stomachers
For my Lads, to giue their deers:
Pins, and poaking-stickes of steele.
What Maids lacke from head to heele:
Come buy of me, come: come buy, come buy,
Buy Lads, or else your Lasses cry: Come buy
Clo. If I were not in loue with Mopsa, thou shouldst
take no money of me, but being enthrall'd as I am, it will
also be the bondage of certaine Ribbons and Gloues
Mop. I was promis'd them against the Feast, but they
come not too late now
Dor. He hath promis'd you more then that, or there
be lyars
Mop. He hath paid you all he promis'd you: 'May be
he has paid you more, which will shame you to giue him
againe
Clo. Is there no manners left among maids? Will they
weare their plackets, where they should bear their faces?
Is there not milking-time? When you are going to bed?
Or kill-hole? To whistle of these secrets, but you must
be tittle-tatling before all our guests? 'Tis well they are
whispring: clamor your tongues, and not a word more
Mop. I haue done; Come you promis'd me a tawdrylace,
and a paire of sweet Gloues
Clo. Haue I not told thee how I was cozen'd by the
way, and lost all my money
Aut. And indeed Sir, there are Cozeners abroad, therfore
it behooues men to be wary
Clo. Feare not thou man, thou shalt lose nothing here
Aut. I hope so sir, for I haue about me many parcels
of charge
Clo. What hast heere? Ballads?
Mop. Pray now buy some: I loue a ballet in print, a
life, for then we are sure they are true
Aut. Here's one, to a very dolefull tune, how a Vsurers
wife was brought to bed of twenty money baggs at
a burthen, and how she long'd to eate Adders heads, and
Toads carbonado'd
Mop. Is it true, thinke you?
Aut. Very true, and but a moneth old
Dor. Blesse me from marrying a Vsurer
Aut. Here's the Midwiues name to't: one Mist[ris]. Tale-Porter,
and fiue or six honest Wiues, that were present.
Why should I carry lyes abroad?
Mop. 'Pray you now buy it
Clo. Come-on, lay it by: and let's first see moe Ballads:
Wee'l buy the other things anon
Aut. Here's another ballad of a Fish, that appeared
vpon the coast, on wensday the fourescore of April, fortie
thousand fadom aboue water, & sung this ballad against
the hard hearts of maids: it was thought she was a Woman,
and was turn'd into a cold fish, for she wold not exchange
flesh with one that lou'd her: The Ballad is very
pittifull, and as true
Dor. Is it true too, thinke you
Autol. Fiue Iustices hands at it, and witnesses more
then my packe will hold
Clo. Lay it by too; another
Aut. This is a merry ballad, but a very pretty one
Mop. Let's haue some merry ones
Aut. Why this is a passing merry one, and goes to the
tune of two maids wooing a man: there's scarse a Maide
westward but she sings it: 'tis in request, I can tell you
Mop. We can both sing it: if thou'lt beare a part, thou
shalt heare, 'tis in three parts
Dor. We had the tune on't, a month agoe
Aut. I can beare my part, you must know 'tis my occupation:
Haue at it with you:
Song
Get you hence, for I must goe
Aut. Where it fits not you to know
Dor. Whether?
Mop. O whether?
Dor. Whether?
Mop. It becomes thy oath full well,
Thou to me thy secrets tell
Dor: Me too: Let me go thether:
Mop: Or thou goest to th' Grange, or Mill,
Dor: If to either thou dost ill,
Aut: Neither
Dor: What neither?
Aut: Neither:
Dor: Thou hast sworne my Loue to be,
Mop: Thou hast sworne it more to mee.
Then whether goest? Say whether?
Clo. Wee'l haue this song out anon by our selues: My
Father, and the Gent. are in sad talke, & wee'll not trouble
them: Come bring away thy pack after me, Wenches Ile
buy for you both: Pedler let's haue the first choice; folow
me girles
Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em.
Song.
Will you buy any Tape, or Lace for your Cape?
My dainty Ducke, my deere-a?
Any Silke, any Thred, any Toyes for your head
Of the news't, and fins't, fins't weare-a.
Come to the Pedler, Money's a medler,
That doth vtter all mens ware-a.
Exit
Seruant. Mayster, there is three Carters, three Shepherds,
three Neat-herds, three Swine-herds y haue made
themselues all men of haire, they cal themselues Saltiers,
and they haue a Dance, which the Wenches say is a gally-maufrey
of Gambols, because they are not in't: but
they themselues are o'th' minde (if it bee not too rough
for some, that know little but bowling) it will please
plentifully
Shep. Away: Wee'l none on't; heere has beene too
much homely foolery already. I know (Sir) wee wearie
you
Pol. You wearie those that refresh vs: pray let's see
these foure-threes of Heardsmen
Ser. One three of them, by their owne report (Sir,)
hath danc'd before the King: and not the worst of the
three, but iumpes twelue foote and a halfe by th' squire
Shep. Leaue your prating, since these good men are
pleas'd, let them come in: but quickly now
Ser. Why, they stay at doore Sir.
Heere a Dance of twelue Satyres.
Pol. O Father, you'l know more of that heereafter:
Is it not too farre gone? 'Tis time to part them,
He's simple, and tels much. How now (faire shepheard)
Your heart is full of something, that do's take
Your minde from feasting. Sooth, when I was yong,
And handed loue, as you do; I was wont
To load my Shee with knackes: I would haue ransackt
The Pedlers silken Treasury, and haue powr'd it
To her acceptance: you haue let him go,
And nothing marted with him. If your Lasse
Interpretation should abuse, and call this
Your lacke of loue, or bounty, you were straited
For a reply at least, if you make a care
Of happie holding her
Flo. Old Sir, I know
She prizes not such trifles as these are:
The gifts she lookes from me, are packt and lockt
Vp in my heart, which I haue giuen already,
But not deliuer'd. O heare me breath my life
Before this ancient Sir, whom (it should seeme)
Hath sometime lou'd: I take thy hand, this hand,
As soft as Doues-downe, and as white as it,
Or Ethyopians tooth, or the fan'd snow, that's bolted
By th' Northerne blasts, twice ore
Pol. What followes this?
How prettily th' yong Swaine seemes to wash
The hand, was faire before? I haue put you out,
But to your protestation: Let me heare
What you professe
Flo. Do, and be witnesse too't
Pol. And this my neighbour too?
Flo. And he, and more
Then he, and men: the earth, the heauens, and all;
That were I crown'd the most Imperiall Monarch
Thereof most worthy: were I the fayrest youth
That euer made eye swerue, had force and knowledge
More then was euer mans, I would not prize them
Without her Loue; for her, employ them all,
Commend them, and condemne them to her seruice,
Or to their owne perdition
Pol. Fairely offer'd
Cam. This shewes a sound affection
Shep. But my daughter,
Say you the like to him
Per. I cannot speake
So well, (nothing so well) no, nor meane better
By th' patterne of mine owne thoughts, I cut out
The puritie of his
Shep. Take hands, a bargaine;
And friends vnknowne, you shall beare witnesse to't:
I giue my daughter to him, and will make
Her Portion, equall his
Flo. O, that must bee
I'th Vertue of your daughter: One being dead,
I shall haue more then you can dreame of yet,
Enough then for your wonder: but come-on,
Contract vs fore these Witnesses
Shep. Come, your hand:
And daughter, yours
Pol. Soft Swaine a-while, beseech you,
Haue you a Father?
Flo. I haue: but what of him?
Pol. Knowes he of this?
Flo. He neither do's, nor shall
Pol. Me-thinkes a Father,
Is at the Nuptiall of his sonne, a guest
That best becomes the Table: Pray you once more
Is not your Father growne incapeable
Of reasonable affayres? Is he not stupid
With Age, and altring Rheumes? Can he speake? heare?
Know man, from man? Dispute his owne estate?
Lies he not bed-rid? And againe, do's nothing
But what he did, being childish?
Flo. No good Sir:
He has his health, and ampler strength indeede
Then most haue of his age
Pol. By my white beard,
You offer him (if this be so) a wrong
Something vnfilliall: Reason my sonne
Should choose himselfe a wife, but as good reason
The Father (all whose ioy is nothing else
But faire posterity) should hold some counsaile
In such a businesse
Flo. I yeeld all this;
But for some other reasons (my graue Sir)
Which 'tis not fit you know, I not acquaint
My Father of this businesse
Pol. Let him know't
Flo. He shall not
Pol. Prethee let him
Flo. No, he must not
Shep. Let him (my sonne) he shall not need to greeue
At knowing of thy choice
Flo. Come, come, he must not:
Marke our Contract
Pol. Marke your diuorce (yong sir)
Whom sonne I dare not call: Thou art too base
To be acknowledge. Thou a Scepters heire,
That thus affects a sheepe-hooke? Thou, old Traitor,
I am sorry, that by hanging thee, I can
But shorten thy life one weeke. And thou, fresh peece
Of excellent Witchcraft, whom of force must know
The royall Foole thou coap'st with
Shep. Oh my heart
Pol. Ile haue thy beauty scratcht with briers & made
More homely then thy state. For thee (fond boy)
If I may euer know thou dost but sigh,
That thou no more shalt neuer see this knacke (as neuer
I meane thou shalt) wee'l barre thee from succession,
Not hold thee of our blood, no not our Kin,
Farre then Deucalion off: (marke thou my words)
Follow vs to the Court. Thou Churle, for this time
(Though full of our displeasure) yet we free thee
From the dead blow of it. And you Enchantment,
Worthy enough a Heardsman: yea him too,
That makes himselfe (but for our Honor therein)
Vnworthy thee. If euer henceforth, thou
These rurall Latches, to his entrance open,
Or hope his body more, with thy embraces,
I will deuise a death, as cruell for thee
As thou art tender to't.
Enter.
Perd. Euen heere vndone:
I was not much a-fear'd: for once, or twice
I was about to speake, and tell him plainely,
The selfe-same Sun, that shines vpon his Court,
Hides not his visage from our Cottage, but
Lookes on alike. Wilt please you (Sir) be gone?
I told you what would come of this: Beseech you
Of your owne state take care: This dreame of mine
Being now awake, Ile Queene it no inch farther,
But milke my Ewes, and weepe
Cam. Why how now Father,
Speake ere thou dyest
Shep. I cannot speake, nor thinke,
Nor dare to know, that which I know: O Sir,
You haue vndone a man of fourescore three,
That thought to fill his graue in quiet: yea,
To dye vpon the bed my father dy'de,
To lye close by his honest bones; but now
Some Hangman must put on my shrowd, and lay me
Where no Priest shouels-in dust. Oh cursed wretch,
That knew'st this was the Prince, and wouldst aduenture
To mingle faith with him. Vndone, vndone:
If I might dye within this houre, I haue liu'd
To die when I desire.
Enter.
Flo. Why looke you so vpon me?
I am but sorry, not affear'd: delaid,
But nothing altred: What I was, I am:
More straining on, for plucking backe; not following
My leash vnwillingly
Cam. Gracious my Lord,
You know my Fathers temper: at this time
He will allow no speech: (which I do ghesse
You do not purpose to him:) and as hardly
Will he endure your sight, as yet I feare;
Then till the fury of his Highnesse settle
Come not before him
Flo. I not purpose it:
I thinke Camillo
Cam. Euen he, my Lord